


Familia Est Cerritulus

by Humanity_Sucks2002



Series: Bellamort One-Shots [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dealing with Nightmares, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, Mildly Dysfunctional Family, Nosebleeds, One Shot, Parenthood, Prophecy, but it's just a nosebleed, children are hard to write, he's trying, how do you write children, parenting, playing chess, there is blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27149974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanity_Sucks2002/pseuds/Humanity_Sucks2002
Summary: The problem was, they weren’t just nightmares. Delphi didn’t have normal nightmares. Delphi had prophetic dreams.
Relationships: Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Voldemort, Delphi & Voldemort (Harry Potter)
Series: Bellamort One-Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2188704
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Familia Est Cerritulus

Voldemort was sat in his office when he heard a scream. It did not cause him to move at first, he thought that it was one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix he had locked in the dungeons. However, as he listened, he realised that the shrill shriek was not made by an adult, nor did it come from the dungeons. It, in fact, came from the room directly above his office.

His first reaction was to remain where he was; Bellatrix would deal with her. But, after a couple of seconds he realised that she would not be dealing with her. She was not here. Bellatrix and Narcissa had gone out together that evening – Bellatrix had explained it to him, but after he had heard the word ‘opera’ he had zoned out. How she could listen to opera willingly was beyond him. It was little more than screeching, in Voldemort’s opinion.

Groaning, muscles stiff from sitting in the office most of the day, Voldemort got to his feet. He had hoped tonight would have been a quiet one. She’d not had an episode in weeks; was it wrong for him to think that, the one-time Bellatrix was not here, it would be an easy night? Apparently it was. He swept out of his office and up the dark stairs.

Walking into the room, Voldemort was met by a very bloody scene. The little girl in the bed was sobbing, clutching her bleeding nose, as the blood dripped between her fingers onto the white sheets. Blood and tears mingled together, leaving little red teardrop rivers rolling down her face and neck dramatically. Her dark hair was plastered to the blood. Watery eyes, green like his had been once, looked up at him shocked as he entered the room.

“Again Delphini?” He said, unimpressed, tired, wishing that Bellatrix was dealing with this instead of him.

“Father?” Delphi was surprised to see him. He could see her looking behind him, wondering if her mother was stood in the darkness and was about to duck under his arm to come to her aid. Not tonight kid. Sitting up, Delphi took her hand away from her nose and this allowed even more blood to go on her bedsheets and nightie. Great. The house elves would have a hard time getting that much blood out of the fabrics.

“Come on,” He rolled his eyes, and sighed, “let’s clean you up.” He gestured for her to get out of bed, and to follow him into the bathroom.

The bed was too tall for her, sitting on the side of it had her legs dangling several feet off the ground. It was difficult for her to get down. Voldemort did not help her and thus blood went everywhere, as she struggled. When she finally reached the floor, Delphi plodded towards him, fluffy, orange socks blocking out the noise of feet on wood.

“I had a nightmare.” Delphi said in a little voice, as he opened the bathroom door.

“I noticed.” He helped her up to sit on the side of the bathtub. The problem was, they weren’t just nightmares. If they were, he would have left her to go back to sleep. Normal nightmares were just something you had to learn to deal with on your own – he had. Voldemort had found himself thinking more often about his time in the orphanage as of late, and the lack of comfort he had received if a nightmare had awoken him. But Delphi didn’t have normal nightmares. Delphi had prophetic dreams. “What happened this time?”

“There was a jack of spades, and a crying baby, and a fire, and a storm.” That was the problem with a seer being seven years old. Delphi had no idea what most of the predictions meant, and was not yet completely able to explain what it was she’d seen. This made deciphering what the prophecy actually was extremely difficult. It was an ability that would be very useful in the future but was quite an inconvenience at the moment.

It was not completely useless though. Delphi had foreseen the last attack by the surviving Order members (several of whom were now in the dungeons). She’d foreseen the terrible storm that had killed Augustus Rookwood. She’d foreseen many things – it was however down to him to interpret what she did not understand correctly.

He told her that he was sure it would be useful – mainly because it cheered her up to feel like she was helping, rather than because it was true. He was glad she wanted to help. He would put her skills to use when she was old enough to be a deatheater. An eagerness to please and learn was vital if she was going to be a great dark witch.

“Cuferion prohibere.” He pressed the Elder wand to the bridge of her nose, and whispered the incantation. The blood stopped pouring immediately, like a tap was turned off. He then did a couple other spells, to ease the pain that he knew was coming from her nose. He looked down at her, her eyes were squeezed shut as he fixed it. He couldn’t help but be a little pleased that she looked so much like Bellatrix – same hair, same cheekbones, same jawline. The only part of her face that was distinctly ‘Tom Riddle’ was her eyes. Green where Bellatrix’s were brown. He was glad that his filthy muggle father’s features had not been passed on to her.

“Where is mummy?” Delphi asked, after Voldemort had finished healing the nosebleed. It had become one of his most used spells as of late. Delphi got them all the time. The healers had said that it was common in seers, nothing to worry about. Voldemort thought that was probably horseshit. Loosing large amounts of blood on a regular basis cannot be good for a person. Especially such a small person.

“She and Narcissa have gone out for a girl’s night.” He passed the child a facecloth, for her to wipe the blood off. She sniffed, then started to scrub at her face, hard.

“Will they be back soon?”

“Probably not – you know what they’re like when they go out together.” Absolutely wild. They were refined ladies most of the time – Narcissa more than Bellatrix admittedly – but as soon as their evening was labelled as a girl’s night, they turned into two banshees from hell. The worst hen-night imaginable. It was quite funny to Voldemort. He was not sure whether it was going to be a crazy night for them, if they were going to end up getting kicked out of said opera, or if they just wanted to experience ‘art’. It could go either way.

Delphi nodded; she did know. As much as a seven-year-old can be expected know about their mother and aunt’s wild escapades, anyway.

“I don’t want to go to sleep.” She announced. Delphi swung her feet backwards and forwards where they didn’t touch the floor. Where she had got those god-awful socks from Voldemort didn’t know, but he hazards a guess that it had something to do with Narcissa. The woman seemed hell bent on dressing the girl ‘as children should be dressed’ which was code for ‘not in complete black from head to toe’. Voldemort did not see the issue, and besides Delphi did not dress in only black. There was dark green. And grey. He even remembered one dress in dark blue – but that was definitely too small for her now.

“Sleep is important, I know you have lessons tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep.” She clarified, looking very delicate as she sat there with eyes still watery from the panicked tears. He couldn’t blame her. Not really. A healer – not the same one that said the nosebleeds weren’t a big deal, they’d never been back to him – had explained that prophetic dreams were a distinctly unpleasant experience. They were terrifying, even for adults, and often very painful. The seer experiencing them would often feel unable to breathe, or like they were fighting off some terrible force and losing. Insomnia could be excused if that happened every time that person went to sleep.

Sighing, resigned to the fact he was getting no work done this evening, he said:

“Come on then. If you aren’t going to sleep you can sit in my office till your mother returns.” Maybe Bella would know how to coax her back to sleep. He certainly didn’t.

“Really?” Delphi couldn’t keep the excitement off her face. She was not normally allowed in the office. Strictly out of bounds. Not for children. He knew the excitement would wear off as soon as she saw that the office was just an office. A desk. A desk chair. A couch for visitors to sit on (usually just Bella because nobody else dared to call on him first). A wizard’s chess set – again usually just for him and Bella to play with. Walls covered in bookshelves. The books themselves were interesting, there was not a single book in there that had not been previously banned for containing dark magic, but the shelves were rather dull.

“Yes, come on. Change out of that nightie then come downstairs, I don’t need blood on my furniture.” The prisoners were in the dungeon for a reason.

~~~~~~~~

Drinking hot drinks is not advised after having a nosebleed, so Voldemort had retrieved a tea for himself and an apple juice for Delphi. She would have preferred a hot chocolate or something along those lines, but she would just have to be disappointed.

It took her quite a long time to get changed and come downstairs. Enough time for Voldemort to have decided it would be best to get said drinks, order the elves to make them (and to clean Delphi’s room) and for the drinks to arrive on his desk. A quiet knocking on the office door, announcing Delphi’s presence, occurred just as the elf set the glass of juice down on the desk. It let her in as it left.

Delphi nervously entered the office, not covered in blood but now wearing another of Narcissa’s gifts – an ugly fuchsia nightie that did not match the orange socks she still had on. Voldemort was not sure which was worse. He would normally say the blood, what a person wears ultimately doesn’t matter, but that nightie was particularly foul looking. He would have to have a word with Narcissa.

Delphi sat on the couch on the opposite end of the couch to the one that Bellatrix always chose. Voldemort’s chair was angled more towards Bella’s seat, and he had to move it so that he had Delphi his line of sight. She took the juice with a thank-you, and wiggled around on the couch to make herself comfortable. It looked like she was going to spill the juice as she did this, and Voldemort found himself praying that it would only go on the ugly dress. However, luckily, it remained in the glass.

“What have you been doing in your lessons this week, Delphini?” He asked, hands holding the cup of tea. He did not normally pay much attention to the lessons she was in, just that she was doing good in them. The whole ‘reading, writing, counting’ part of life was very important, but not very interesting to him. He would pay more attention when she was doing actual magic.

“We have been reading a book about the Viking gods.” Delphi said, scratching her nose. “Odin was a seer too.” Of course she’d pick up on that. They really needed to find books that did not involve prophecy for her to read, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. He had not noticed how prevalent prophecy was in fiction until there was a reason to avoid it. It didn’t help that it seemed that the only things the girl wanted to read about was mythology. It didn’t matter which mythology – she’d started on Greece, then dipped into Ireland, then China and it seemed now she was onto the Vikings. It was only a matter of time before she found Egyptian mythology. At least they had a lot snakes.

“Indeed he was.” Voldemort nodded, jotting what Delphi had said she’d seen down quickly. Jack of spades, crying baby, fire, and a storm. There was a meaning in there somewhere, but he would have to figure it out later. “But he also only had one eye, so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“I’m not going to rip my eye out!” She laughed. Good. “Can I have a raven?”

“No.” That would not fit the look he was going for. Nor could she be trusted to look after a bird. Nor should he encourage her to try and emulate a Norse deity.

“I would call it Hugin.” She said, like that was supposed to make him say yes. It was the name of one of Odin’s magic ravens.

“You can call it imaginary.” He said dryly, not breaking his resolve when Delphi started to sulk. She could make all the sad, puppy eyes she wanted – there would be no raven in this house. “What else have you been doing?”

“Maths.” She said sulkily.

“What kind of maths?”

“Times Tables.” She pulled her feet up and had her knees to her chest. Not good posture, but he could not be bothered to correct her on that for the moment. He put his elbows on the desk and crossed his arms.

“Ok, what are the seven times tables?”

“Seven, fourteen, twenty-one, twenty-eight, thirty-five, um, forty…” She had to count on her fingers from thirty-five till forty-two. “Forty-nine…um, fifty-six, sixty-three and seventy.” She grinned, accomplishedly. Voldemort nodded; she had gotten it right after all. “I don’t like maths.”

“Well, you’re going to have to suck it up. You have to do things you don’t like sometimes.” His eyes fell to the legislation that sat on his desk. It was one of the dullest things he’d ever had to read through. It was all about the minutia of the Wizengamot reforms that was being brought through. As head of state, he had to read through it all and sign off. It was not fun.

“What do you have to do that you don’t like?” Delphi asked, with a look that said that she did not believe that he had to do anything he did not enjoy. She’d know different when she was an adult.

“I spend all day talking to morons.” Like the idiots that decided the bill needed over sixty pages of legal jargon. He was going to make Yaxley pay for this tomorrow.

“Mummy isn’t a moron.” Delphi pointed out.

“No, she’s not.” He agreed. Bella was one of the only people he could stand to be around most of the time, which was a compliment in itself. “But most other people are.”

“Is Draco?” Delphi turned her head to the side, like a cat.

“Yes.”

“Is Lucius?” No question; there was nobody more stupid than that idiot. One of these days Voldemort would probably kill him. Or get Bella to. Bella would enjoy that. Maybe a birthday present.

“Yes.”

“Is Cissa?” He had to think about that one. She was certainly more intelligent than her husband and son, but that was a low bar to cross.

“No, but she needs to up her game.” Perhaps he would think better of her if she stopped supplying her niece with gross clothing. Merlin – he thought, when did that become a priority for him to think about? Ruling a nation with an iron fist, destroying his enemies and the colour of his daughter’s dresses. What a variety.

Delphi’s eyes flicked to the wizard’s chess board that was set up on the side of his desk. It was a beautiful set. The figures were carved in precious stones. Black in jet. White in quartz. The board was polished and picked up the light from the candles, glowing a warm orange because of it. The board was currently in the positions that he and Bellatrix had left their last game – they had not had a chance to finish it. Bella had been winning.

“Do you want to play chess, Delphi?” He would not have offered if he had been winning the last game, but he did not play fair and allowing Bellatrix to win was mildly irritating to him. They would have to start again when she got back.

“Yes please, father.” Delphi grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellatrix got back home at half past three. She’d had a great time. They had not been kicked out of the opera itself, but the theatre bar afterwards was a different story. Neither woman was a lightweight drinker, and both had drunk a significant amount of alcohol over the night. Wobblily, mind a little fuzzy, cheerful, Bellatrix tried to be as quiet as possible when walking into the manor. Being drunk, she failed. The door shutting behind her banged quite loudly, and this started a chain reaction where the people in the dungeons started howling again.

She was planning on just going to bed, but as she passed the Dark Lord’s office door, she noticed that the light was still on. Bellatrix did not think it likely that he would have left it on by accident, so assumed he was still up. The door being slightly ajar added to her certainty.

Peeking inside, Bellatrix expected to see the Dark Lord still awake, working away at that terrible bill she’d left him with. She expected him to look up at her, comment on how wobblily she was (she was a very unsteady drunk when it actually hit her, and this had become something of an inside joke between them) then she would sit down and talk for a bit before she went to bed.

Instead, she saw that he had dozed off. His head rested on the back of his chair – which had a high wingback – and he faced away from the door. On the desk before him was a chess board in disarray, pieces taken off the board from both sides, an empty glass, a mug and a large stack of papers, presumably the bill. It took Bellatrix actually stepping into the room fully for her to spot Delphini on the couch. Curled up, head resting on one of the couch’s throw cushions, her hand resting against her face as she slept. Her legs were curled up into her nightie, only the ends of her toes in the fluffy, orange socks poked out.

Bellatrix smiled, let out a little huff of laughter. She guessed that Delphi had another dream, then he’d brought her down here. Deciding against waking them up, Bellatrix instead blew out the still burning candles that sat on the desk and slipped back out of the room again. She shut the door with a click, and slipped away up the dark staircase.

**Author's Note:**

> Children are hard to write. What is too clever for a seven-year-old, what is too childish? How to kids talk? I don’t know lol. 
> 
> Yes, I know Tom Riddle’s eyes are dark in the books but, I prefer the idea that they were green, cos Slytherin, so I’m going with that instead 😊


End file.
